Beautiful means strong
by Nerissa1243
Summary: It's 2018 and Chuck and Blair have finally overcome all of the obstacles on the way to their happily-ever-after, they are entering their married life together. But when they come from their honeymoon, something horrible happens. It's bigger, scarier and darker than anything they've seen. How will they cope? Will they win or lose? Will they stay strong together or fall apart?
1. Chapter 1

**A/N**: Hello there! It's been a long long time since my last long story, probably long enough for you to forget me altogether, but, here I am again, with this new summer story! Apparently, I can only write long stuff when I have holidays)

This is going to be dark, very dark sometimes, but I'll throw in a good fluffy scene here and there, because even after the fabulous finale, we, Chairleaders, still need it.  
Consider the story to be more or less AU since 5.18 - Bart's still dead, Lily and Rufus are very much married and B/S have the most beautiful friendship ever. However, Blair has the Waldorf Designs, as I really really liked that idea.

I'd like to thank the amazing _**suspensegirl** _who did a hell of a job beta-reading this! She writes wonderful fanfiction too, so if you haven't seen it yet - go and check! _  
_

**WARNING: **This story is rated 'M' for a reason - it deals with quite mature subjects, along with some mature language.

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own this, all rights to to the CW and Cecily von Ziegesar. **

Enjoy reading and remember that this is done for entertainment purposes only and by no means is supposed to offend anybody.

* * *

"Mrs. Bass," he murmurs softly and she giggles lightly at the sound of her new name. "I love you."

He is smiling.

Not smirking, like Chuck Bass usually does, but _smiling_, genuinely, wholeheartedly, happily.  
That wide, radiant smile of his that reaches his piercing deep brown eyes and makes her heart race.

"I love you too," she confesses, her voice thick with emotion.

It rings in his ears, the happiest sound in his universe.

The best one along with her light laughter.

They waltz through the ballroom, silent for a couple of minutes, just enjoying the rhythm of the dance and the way their bodies move in sync so well. It feels like they are made for each other, the way her petite figure fits perfectly into his arms, the way they perform the most difficult steps so easily. They twirl around and don't even notice when one dance ends and another one starts.

Because they are Chuck and Blair.

Blair and Chuck.

Married.

It's beautiful.

As they dance, Chuck watches Blair. To say that she is a beauty queen is to say nothing. She is ravishing, exquisite, heavenly gorgeous. Her chestnut curls bounce slightly, her delicate porcelain skin glows, her doe eyes glitter, and then, suddenly, she mouths "I love you" at him.

Her full red ruby lips are so tempting that he can't help himself but break the dancing pattern and pull her in for a kiss. It's sweet, soft and short, because their parents are watching, but nevertheless it takes his breath away and he doesn't notice how she stiffens for a split second when his body presses against hers and there is a strange tense feeling in her left breast.

* * *

It's two weeks later that he starts to worry.

He can't quite figure it out yet, but he knows that something is wrong.

She is different.

She doesn't look carnival grade happy like he expects her to anymore. It's not like she's unhappy though - it's their honeymoon and it's perfect. He just wishes she would be less tense.

"Hey, Beautiful, is there anything bothering you?" he asks her uneasily at dinner one night.

"Well, the lamb is a tad too dry, but I think I'll survive that," she chuckles lightly.

"No, Blair, seriously," he says softly, shifting his weight uncomfortably.

"With all the seriousness, Bass, everything is amazing, I'm wonderful. So stop sending me these worried looks!" She smiles brightly and turns her attention back to delicious lamb ribs cooked with rosemary and thyme.

He watches her for a moment and sighs – he won't be able to get anything out of her tonight.

* * *

They are back in Manhattan, and he forgets his worries for a couple of days – it just feels too good, being there, at home, with _Blair_. He cannot even start describing the fluttering warmth that is in his chest every time his secretary tells him that his _wife _is calling.

He is so happy and so _proud_ of them.

They made it. They fixed all their mistakes; they overcame all their insecurities: the pressure of Gossip Girl, the scandal that Blair's divorce with Louis had evoked, the default that had threatened to destroy his business, her father's death…(the father is Harold, of course.)

It was a long and bumpy road for them, and sometimes they couldn't even see the light at the end of the tunnel.

But in the end, love made everything simple.

Because they are Chuck and Blair.

Blair and Chuck.

And one day, May 15 2017 to be precise, he felt that they were ready. That is when he dropped to one knee and proposed to her. That is why now, 12 month later, he calls her his _wife_.

It's beautiful.

* * *

Still, he cannot hide in their happy bubble forever. No matter how bad he wants to live in a fairytale.

The one she invented, the one she had shown him. He can't.

There is that tension in her shoulders that doesn't go away even afterhours of Thai massage, that flicker of thought in her deep amber eyes that sends chills up his spine when she is staring into the same spot on the wall for ten minutes before he calls her, that way she locks herself in the bathroom and stays completely quiet for half an hour – he can't see through the walls, but he doesn't need to in order to know that she's meticulously studying her mirror reflection. The whole thing is worsened by the bright sugary smile that appears on her face every time he asks her about her day.

He knows that she is not _fine _like she claims to be.

"Baby, is everything alright at the Waldorf Designs?" he murmurs into her ear a couple of minutes after she collapses on top of him with a mind-blowing orgasm. If he wants to find out the truth, he has to act when she is the most relaxed.

"Of course. Why?" she whispers back, slightly surprised by his choice of post coital talk.  
"I can feel that something is wrong, Blair. Talk to me", he almost pleads, pressing his lips against the base of her neck tenderly. "Please."  
"I'm okay, Chuck. I'm just a bit nervous about closing that deal on Monday. I don't like negotiating abroad - I don't really know why they couldn't come to New York", she admits defeated, running her hand through her chocolate brown curls slowly.  
"I'm sorry I can't come to Paris with you", he sighs. "But you'll do perfect, I'm sure. You are _Blair Bass, the_ strongest woman I've ever met, remember? You will win their hearts in a second," he muses reassuringly, hoping to ease her worries. He knows she hasn't told him all the truth, but nevertheless she's opened up a little and that's a good start.

Perhaps she really just has problems at work.

* * *

When he meets her at the airport a week later with a bouquet of peonies, she looks exhausted and strangely pale, and when he outstretches his hand to help her off the boarding ramp, she leans on him somewhat too much.

"Are you okay, Blair?" he asks instead of saying hello. Worried, he presses his hand against her forehead gently. Thankfully, it doesn't feel hot.

"Yes, Chuck", she smiles weakly. "I caught a stomach flu in Paris. I'm much better now, but not perfect yet," she explains as he leads her to the limo.

"Ohh, beautiful, I'm so sorry," he says, kissing her on the cheek tenderly.

When he helps her in the car, he once again notices that she's weaker the usual.

_Not perfect yet._

The words run through his head.

Blair Bass (ex-Waldorf) confessing health problems?

She must be feeling really shitty. But a stomach flu is something they can overcome. That's for sure. They are Chuck and Blair. Blair and Chuck. They've seen worse.

"Let's get you home, to rest, then." He wraps his arms around her frame and then, all of a sudden, her shoulders start trembling slightly.

"Blair, what's wrong?" he panics as she breaks into a fit of sobs.

Her whole body is shaking.

Violently.

She doesn't answer, just tugs on the lapel of his jacket, buries her head in his chest. Lets the tears overpower her. She cries like she does only with Chuck or Serena, cries sincerely, honestly. It's not like shedding a tear when it's appropriate and awaited by the society. She wails ungracefully, she weeps, sobs wrenching her petite frame. It's bad.

But they'll sort it out.

It's just one more obstacle.

They can overcome it.

That's for sure.

He knows better than to ask what's wrong - something is, but he'll find out later. Tomorrow. When she's ready.

Right now, she needs him, needs him not to talk, but to hold her and be there. And so he folds her in his arms securely, rubbing soothing circles into her back and smoothing her hair until her breathing evens out and she falls asleep, run down, on his shoulder.

* * *

Thank you so much for reading, and I hope you enjoyed it!

Don't be shy and leave your lovely reviews!

xoxo :***


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N**: Hello there!

Thank you so much for all those of you who favorited, alerted or reviewed this story! It makes my day every time I get a review, so thank you guys, it really means a lot!

I'd also like to thank my wonderful beta **suspensegirl **who was very-very-very helpful!

**WARNING**: This story is rated 'M' for a reason - it deals with quite mature subjects, along with some mature language.

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own this, all rights go to the CW and Cecily von Ziegesar.**

Enjoy reading and remember that this is done for entertainment purposes only and by no means is supposed to offend anybody.

* * *

That night, he can't sleep. He just lays there, completely still, afraid to wake Blair up.

She sleeps peacefully next to him, her mouth a perfect 'o', her chocolate brown curls spread over the pillow, her breathing even. She is beautiful. Yet, there are barely visible silver traces of tears on her cheeks that don't let him forget their limo ride.

_Blair._

_Sobbing._

_Her shoulders._

_Shaking._

_It's bad_.

But they'll sort it out.

They are Chuck and Blair.

Blair and Chuck.

He studies her soft features carefully, trying to think of a reason for her to be so... upset. It's not the right word. Too neutral. She was hysterical, devastated, broken. But he doesn't allow himself to use those words, it's too scary.

Suddenly, he realizes that he hasn't seen her crying like that since Harold's car crash three and a half years ago.

The thought sends chills up his spine.

No, he thinks.

Not _that _bad.

He would have known. Or would he?

_Of course_ he would.

He's Chuck Bass.

He'll sort it out.

With that thought, he falls asleep.

* * *

_They're at La Perla._

_It's one of the first times he rents the whole shop for an comes out of the fitting room in a red lace corset, matching strings and Sergio Rossi 4-inch pumps. The lingerie fits her curves so close he has to suppress a growl._

_"I'm not sure about this one…" she smiles innocently at him. "What do you think, Bass?" She comes closer, swaying her hips deliciously as she goes._

_"You. Are. So. Sexy," he manages as she sits down on his lap, taking his breath away._

_"Really?" she runs her hand through his messy hair._

_"Absolutely. The sexiest woman in the world"._

_She smiles at his words._

_That's when he loses it - he crashes her lips with his, pulling her closer. The feeling of her perfect lips moving in sync with his. It's happiness. Pure happiness._

_Suddenly, her phone rings._

_"No, Blair," he moans. "I need you here."_

_He tries to keep her in his embrace, but she frees herself._

_"Sorry, Chuck, it's mother," she sighs._

_He nods. He understands._

_"Alright" he says._

_"Hey, mom," he sounds cheerful, but then her face changes quickly._

_"What's wrong?" she asks urgently, suddenly very pale._

_He reaches for her hand, but she brushes him off._

_"Oh my God…" she lets out a shaky breath and stands up quickly._

_He watches her intently as her eyes fill with tears._

_"I'll be there soon," she utters and hangs up._

_"Blair?" he asks quietly._

_"Daddy," she says brokenly, her gaze unfixed._

_"Daddy," she repeats. _

_"Daddy."_

_ There are tears streaming down her cheeks._

_"Daddy!" she screams and then breaks into sobs. _

_He wraps his arms around her as quickly as he can, and holds her tightly. _

_Her whole body is shaking._

_Violently._

Chuck sits up in his bed, startled by the flashback-y nightmare. It stopped haunting him more than two years ago. But such scary memories don't go away forever. Sooner or later, they come back.

He takes a few deep breaths, wipes sweat from his face, turns towards Blair. Her side of their bed is empty.

His stomach lurches uncomfortably. She must have gone to the toilet, he thinks.

But then, he notices a box on her pillow. His heart sinks.

It's over, he knows.

She's gone.

* * *

_Dear Chuck,_

_I'm so sorry._

_You do not deserve all the pain I've caused you._

_You are an amazing husband, an amazing man._

_It's not your fault, it's mine._

_I love you, I always will, but I'm not in love with you anymore._

_I found a man I want to spend the rest of my life with in Paris._

_That's why I left. Don't go looking for me, please._

_Don't let this destroy all the good in you._

_I'm sorry._

_Blair Waldorf._

"I'm sorry, Mr. Bass," says Andrew Tyler softly as he finishes reading her note.

"I don't need your pity," he hisses. "I need you to find her," he orders, clenching his fists suddenly.

He is so angry.

It's as if the blood is boiling in his veins.

Why? He wants to scream.

They are Chuck and Blair.

Blair and Chuck.

They are foolish, insecure, selfish, arrogant.

They make mistakes.

They hurt each other. Badly.

But they are _in love_.

That's for sure.

At least it was.

Before his world has gone insane. Before it all went to hell. Before she left him.

It was sure._Maybe it was, but it's not any more_.

His own voice is ringing in his head until it starts spinning.

He doesn't believe, refuses to believe her note. It can't be. There must be something else.

"Did you hear me?" he snaps at his PI.

"Yes, Mr. Bass. Could you show me the rest of the things in the box?" asks Andrew.

"Help yourself," he says and turns away.

He can't bear looking at all the things she's left behind all over again. A framed picture of them in high school. Another one from their wedding. Keys to their apartment with the Tiffany key ring she loves (_loved_) so much. Keys to his office. Her cell phone. Her wedding ring.

And suddenly, he isn't angry any more. He is just tired. Exhausted.

Because there isn't any hope left in his system.

_She found a man she wants to spend the rest of her life with in Paris._

He sinks into the chair, his knees weak.

"Find her. Please," he whispers.

* * *

"Three month, Serena!" he loses his temper when his step-sister tells him it's going to be okay once again. "Don't you understand? She's not coming back! It's been. Three. Fucking. Months!" he shouts at her.

"I know", she says quietly. "She left me too", she sighs.

"Sorry," he mutters.

"It's okay," she whispers.

Silence.

They don't need words. They understand exactly what the other feels. They are Chuck and Serena.

Two broken pieces of Chuck and Blair and Blair and Serena. Two lost souls. For them, two is a lonely number. They used to (want to) be three, four even. Now, they are two, three, but never four.

There aren't any words. It's silent.

"Charles' Place is amazing. Today was the opening of the century, really," she speaks finally.

"Thank you", he nods.

* * *

So, that's it for now. Thank you for reading and please leave a feedback, it really is important for me to know what YOU on the other side of this screen think!

xoxo :***


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N**: Hello there!

Many many many thanks to all those who read, alerted, favorited and reviewed last chapter! Your feedback is really important to me!

I'd also like to thank my amazing beta **suspensegirl. **I can't imagine working on this thing without you!

**WARNING**: This story is rated 'M' for a reason - it deals with quite mature subjects, along with some mature language.

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own this, all rights go to the CW and Cecily von Ziegesar.**

Enjoy reading and remember that this is done for entertainment purposes only and by no means is supposed to offend anybody.

* * *

A phone call startles him awake from his scotch-induced haze that evening.

Unknown number.

He feels his heart picking up pace. Hammering against his rib cage. It's silly. It must be just business.

Yet he has a superstitious prevision he can't fight.

"Hello?" he says, a bit hesitantly.

"Mr. Bass, my name is Cecily, I am a nurse at the Lenox Hill Hospital," the girl on the other end is audibly nervous.

It makes him uneasy, her trembling voice. Hospital calls can never be good.

Yet he has a superstitious prevision he can't fight.

(This call is good.)

"I think we need to talk", she sighs.

"Alright. Where?" He is very quick to agree, he thinks. He should've asked what she wanted to talk about. But he feels_, knows,_ he mustn't.

"There is a cafeteria in the hospital. Could you be there tomorrow, 11 am?" she suggests.

"I will be there," he promises.

* * *

"So, Mr. Bass…" says Cecily with a small sad smile. "I'm not sure I'm doing the right thing..."

"But?" He raises his eyebrows.

"But we have a patient here, a woman, Beatrice Charlie Frodlaw.."

_Beatrice Frodlaw._

He knows the name, he thinks.

It suddenly reminds him of high school.

Courtyard. Lunch. Nate. St. Jude and Constance's student newspaper. An article on global warming. Signed by Beatrice Frodlaw. Written by Blair.

(Yes, she used a pen name. No one even guessed. No one but him.)

Chuck's world stops.

_Blair_.

That's it. Obvious.

_Blair._

Not in Paris. Not with another man. Here, in New York.

It feels…like paradise.

For a second.

But then, he hears the words coming out of the nurse's mouth.

"...she keeps your picture on her nightstand - I saw you in The New York Times yesterday and recognized, and... she's so lonely... no one has visited her in three months... and when she is in pain and we... we can't help her... she cries… she asks for Chuck… she… I know it's not my place… I know you probably don't love her anymore...but... She needs someone… she… she has..." the girl stutters, in loss for words.

"She has what?" Chuck shouts suddenly, after being silent for the whole time.

Blair. All alone. In a ward. Asking for him. His jaw clenches. He pictures it so vividly his head hurts.

It feels…like hell.

He should've guessed there was something wrong with her.

True love doesn't just disappear.

"She has breast cancer," emerges the nurse finally.

It doesn't feel like anything. He just can't breathe.

"Is it curable?" he chokes out.

Three words. Eleven letters.

The only words in the universe that matter. For him. Now. Ever.

_God, please!_, he thinks.

"Yes, but she's not holding up too well. She needs support, she can't do it on her own. And… if you go in there, there is no way back - if you give her hope, she might not survive you taking it away."

There are tears glittering in Cecily's eyes.

"I love her," confesses Chuck barely audibly. "And I'll be with her every second of the way. I will never leave her," he says, his voice suddenly husky.

"Good," the nurse nods.

"Can I see her?" he asks quietly.

Cecily hesitates for a second.

"Yes, but let's do it this way - you just look through the window in the ward door first, take everything in, and then, when you are ready, you head inside, okay? We don't need her seeing your first reaction, it might be a bit scary," she explains.

* * *

Just as he was told, he doesn't go in right away.

He takes a deep breath, and looks through the window.

That is when he sees her.

Blair, curled up in a loose fetal position on the bed.

For a second, he can see nothing except that she is Blair. The love of his life. Not in Paris. Not with another man. Here, in New York.

But then, he _really _sees her. There are deep circles under her hollow eyes, dark circles that jump out because her face is all haggard. She is thinner, way too thin. She hasn't been like that even at her lowest. Her skin seems tight - like her cheekbones might break right through it. There is an IV hooked up to her fragile wrist, and a heart monitor next to it.

(Pulse: 55,Blood pressure: 103/65.)

And, she is _bald. _

That's when Chuck's knees give out and he slides down the wall helplessly.

"Here", the nurse says softly and hands him a glass of water.

He gulps it down greedily.

He feels Cecily's comforting arm on his shoulder. It doesn't help. Not because the girl doesn't sincerely feel sorry for him. He knows she does. But it dawns on him only now, and he inhales sharply, the air suddenly too dry.

_Blair has cancer._

* * *

Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed it, and, please, don't be shy! Leave a review!


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N**: Hello there!

Many thanks to all those who read/reviewed/favorited/alerted the story! Readers are the greatest inspiration ever, and the feedback to this story makes me smile like all day long, so thank you, guys!

**Suspensegirl, **you were amazing! Sorting out the really messy timeline in my head was pure heroism, and I can't even start describing how much you helped me!

**WARNING**: This story is rated 'M' for a reason - it deals with quite mature subjects, along with some mature language.

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own this, all rights go to the CW and Cecily von Ziegesar.**

Enjoy reading and remember that this is done for entertainment purposes only and by no means is supposed to offend anybody.

* * *

Chuck is standing before the ward's door.

It's evening already.

Hours of pointless walking through the hospital's hallways and staring out of the windows hadn't brought him any closer to being ready, but it's as close as it gets, he decides.

Right now, he still has two options: to go in and not to.

Not that he genuinely considers the second.

He is going to go in at some point, of course.

He's just scared.

Because for the first time in his life, he is about to face a problem he can't solve.

He's _Chuck Bass_, but it doesn't help.

He can't buy her health.

He can't negotiate it,

Can't charm it.

There isn't anyone to bring round to his point of view,

to persuade,

to sleep with,

to bribe

to get Blair's health back.

He can't even make a sacrifice -

he can't give up his health in exchange for hers, no matter how badly he wants to.

He can't do _anything_ for her cancer to just go away,

and it scares the hell out him.

«Mr. Bass?» Cecily's soft voice calls from behind.

He doesn't answer, doesn't turn his head towards her.

He just waits for her to continue.

She gets the hint.

«I know what you are thinking about right now,» she says, and somehow he believes her.

«You think that there isn't anything you can do to help your…» she stops, unsure what to call Blair.

«Wife,» He fills in the gap in a dead tone.

«You think that there isn't anything you can do to help your wife, but that's not true. There is,» she states, and once again he believes her.

«Tell me. »

It sounds like an order, but they both now it's more of an entreaty.

«Be there,» the nurse says seriously. «She is going through a battle for her life, and she needs two things to win it - motivation and support, and medical care. We do provide the latter, but the former is often much more important. Be there, remind her why she shouldn't give up, hold her hand when she's in pain, talk to her when she wants to, stay silent when it helps more, watch her favorite movies with her and read her books, take her to spend a night at home whenever the doctor says it okay, bring her friends here, and make her feel loved and needed. That's what _you and only you _can do.»

Cecily pats Chuck's shoulder and leaves before he can argue, before he can point out how she's wrong. That's a smart move - she leaves Chuck to think over her words.

She doesn't see how he reaches for the door knob and opens the door, but she doesn't need to.

There is no doubt he will do it.

* * *

She's already finished her chemotherapy for the day (for 2 weeks, really, because it was the last in the round) when Chuck comes in.

She is lying on her back, her hands resting at her sides, her eyes closed.

He can't tell whether she's asleep or not.

So he takes a seat at her bedside quietly.

He hesitates for the space of a heartbeat, and then takes her hand in his tentatively.

Blair sighs - apparently she isn't asleep.

«I'm okay, Cecily,» she mumbles, but there is so much pain in her voice his throat closes up for a second.

«It's me,» he whispers when he can breathe again.

«Chuck?» inquires Blair, suddenly sounding tired, but not surprised at all.

It's strange.

«Yes, it's me, Chuck,» he confirms, squeezing her hand gently, as if to prove that he's there.

«Cecily, I'm having it again,» she says wearily, her eyes still closed. «You were right, we should call Dr. Shiermann,» she adds, and pieces fall into place in Chuck's head.

She thinks he's _a hallucination. _

And, she's been having some.

He wasn't there for her, so she had to _imagine _him.

Guilt.

Immense guilt, that's what he feels.

But he'll find time for self-reproach later; he has to make sure she knows:

he's real now and he isn't going anywhere.

«No, Blair, it's me, Chuck, and I'm here,» he states firmly.

«No, don't do it, please. You'll make me believe you are real, and then when the pain medication wears off I'll wake up and you will be… gone,» she whispers. It's clear that it takes great force for her to form coherent sentences.

«But I am real, Blair,» he exclaims and she winces at the loud sound.

«Sorry,» he adds quickly, mentally slapping himself for being so inattentive.

Blair doesn't answer.

«I am here, Blair Cornelia Bass, just open your eyes and you'll see me,» he suggests, not sure how one proves that he isn't a delusion.

«No,» she protests. «It hurts and you'll disappear if I open my eyes,» she says knowingly.

«I'm sleepy, just don't vanish until I fall asleep, okay?» she slurs.

«Okay,» he agrees, defeated.

She'll have her rest, and when she wakes up he will be there.

That's for sure.

Because they are Chuck and Blair,

Blair and Chuck.

And it's his time to stand by her through anything.

* * *

That night, he can't sleep.

Again.

He sits in the uncomfortable plastic chair and watches her sleep.

It's not peaceful.

She tosses to and fro on the bed.

Sometimes, she moans quietly and he whispers:

«I'm here, Blair. It's okay.".

It helps and she doesn't move for another half an hour or so.

While she is quiet, he looks around the ward.

It's quite a big room packed with medical equipment - monitors, IVs, strange machines…

There are, however, several other pieces of furnishing - a TV screen, a CD player, and two tables - a working one with a chair and a bedside one.

The working table is covered in notebooks and books.

The only one that is closed reads: «Le Français pour vous».

Apparently, she is studying French again.

For a second, he thinks of the nonexistent love of her life in Paris.

It's silly, but he still needs her to confirm that her note was a lie in order to stop imagining what he looks like, how he calls her and, the most torturing, how he's better than Chuck.

_It's not the time to be jealous, Charles Bartholomew Bass_, he tells himself quickly.

If she has enough energy to study, it's a good sign.

Blair moans softly in her sleep, and he rubs her back soothingly until she dozes off again.

Then, he goes back to thinking.

He thinks of how small she looks on the wide hospital bed.

Thinks of how she is covered with four blankets, but still shivers from time to time.

Thinks of how sadly the nurse who changed her IV looked at him.

Thinks of how life is so unfair.

She is Blair Waldorf-Bass.

The strongest, smartest, kindest woman in his life.

She is the Queen of the Upper East Side.

She's always seemed invincible.

Chuck Bass, of all people, knows it's just a semblance, a façade.

She's had her hard times, and heartbreaks, and meltdowns, of course.

These moments when the little vulnerable girl, usually buried deep inside her, breaks to the surface.

But they had never felt so final, so devastating – he was always sure she would find her way back.

_She is Blair Waldorf Bass!_ He wants to scream.

Things like this aren't supposed to happen to her.

Yet, _she has cancer._

He can't deny it now that he sees her.

It's scary.

But deep down his soul, he believes it'll be okay.

Because they are Chuck and Blair,

Blair and Chuck.

And together, they _are _invincible.

* * *

I hope you liked the chapter! Please, leave your lovely reviews!

xoxo :***


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: **Hey, amazing people who read this story!

Many thanks to all those who read/reviewed/favorited/alerted the story! There wasn't many reviews of the last chapter though, which made me a bit sad :(

**Suspensegirl, **however, made me very very happy! You're the best beta in the world, really!

**WARNING**: This story is rated 'M' for a reason - it deals with quite mature subjects, along with some mature language.

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own this, all rights go to the CW and Cecily von Ziegesar.**

Enjoy reading and remember that this is done for entertainment purposes only and by no means is supposed to offend anybody.

* * *

It's morning, but the ward is dimly lit because of heavy curtains on the window.

A young woman in a doctor's smock comes in, but when she sees Chuck she stops dead in her tracks.

"Good morning," he says politely as the woman stares at him with wide eyes.

"Are you Chuck?" She asks finally.

"Yes, I'm Chuck Bass," he confirms, surprised.

"Well, that's about time," the doctor mutters and turns to Blair who is still asleep.

"Excuse me?" he raises his voice slightly, because the woman is starting to annoy him.

"I said that's about time you showed up here," she repeats curtly.

"What do you mean?" he snaps at her.

"I mean that you should've been here since her first check-up!" she says heatedly. "Now I have patients to attend to, if you'll excuse me! I'll come check on Beatrice later".

And with that, she walks out brusquely.

Her words are ringing in his head.

_He should've been here since her first check-up._

Well, he_ would've been_ if he'd known, he wants to shout at her.

But it's a poor excuse, really.

He's Chuck Bass, he should've found her sooner…

Suddenly, he feels Blair move.

"Good morning" he greets her softly as she opens her eyes, wincing slightly from the too bright for her inflamed eyes light.

Their gazes lock for the first time in three months.

Shock.

Love.

Surprise.

Relief.

Fear.

Love.

Happiness.

Sorrow.

Love.

Love.

Love.

"Chuck?" she manages finally.

"Blair," he nods, smiling.

Not smirking, like Chuck Bass usually does, but _smiling_, genuinely, wholeheartedly, happily.

Because he is him, and she is her.

They are Chuck and Blair,

Blair and Chuck.

And seeing her deep amber eyes stare back at him is the highest pleasure in his world, no matter what.

And for a second, it doesn't matter.

It doesn't matter that she is in a hospital bed,

or that she is so sickeningly thin,

or that she is bald,

or that she has _cancer._

For a second, they are Queen B and King C all over again.

But then, the spell disappears.

There are tears glittering in her eyes.

"You found me," she states quietly and he can't tell if she is happy with the fact or not.

"I'm Chuck Bass," he tries to make a joke, but the atmosphere in the room is just too heavy.

"I really don't think you should be here," she says calmly.

Far too calmly for him to believe her.

"You didn't seem so sure yesterday," he replies in the same reserved manner.

Hurt instantly flashes through her eyes, and he knows he's hit below the belt.

_Desperate times - desperate measures_, he thinks and doesn't drop the cool façade.

They stare at each other for a long silent moment.

"I'm not going anywhere, Blair," he says finally. "I know it's going to be very hard to fight your c_ancer_" - he swallows a huge lump in his throat at the word, and forces himself to continue – "but let's carry that weight together".

He speaks slowly and clearly, wishing for every word to reach her mind, searching for her eyes.

But she doesn't look back at him.

She doesn't give in.

She's Blair Waldorf-Bass - the most stubborn woman on this planet.

He's well aware that it's going to take a huge deal of effort to change her mind, but he's more than willing to fight for her as long as it's necessary.

"Blair Cornelia Waldorf-_Bass_," he stresses on her (his) surname. "I will stand by you through anything, and you can't change that fact. We are a family, and I love you." He finishes the sentence in the softest voice he can muster.

He knows that using the I-Love-You-card is a bit of moral cheating, but

_Desperate times - desperate measures_, he repeats the thought.

The tension is almost palpable as she keeps ignoring him.

"When we were younger, I would've asked you to tell me that you don't love me, and if you did I would go away. But now, it doesn't matter. Even if you say that you hate me with all your soul, I will still stay. Not because I need your love, but because I want to give you mine. So I don't care whether you love me or not, you need someone here."

It's a bit of exaggeration – he is actually longing to be reassured about her feelings, but it's not about him right now.

"Chuck, I love you too," she snaps suddenly at him.

She's angry.

The ice is broken.

Yet, the battle isn't won yet.

So he leans in towards her, as if inviting her to go on.

"I love you, Chuck," she repeats heatedly. "That's why I don't want you here. I don't want to _- can't stand _- making you suffer!" she raises her voice even higher, panting as she speaks.

"You make me suffer only when you shut me out," he protests immediately.

"No, that's not true, and you know it," she argues. "I was going to tell you after my appointment with an oncologist in Paris, I honestly was. But then I got off that plane and had to lie to you about having stomach flu - 'I have cancer' is not something I could say while walking to the limo. And you got _so _worried, and all protective, I…," she pauses to catch her breath and continues in a much lower voice, already exhausted from the emotional conversation. "I couldn't bring myself to tell you, couldn't do that to you…" she trails off, hot tears finally spilling from her eyes.

"Hey, don't cry, please," he says as he wipes her tears with his thumbs tenderly.

"It is 'in sickness and in health', remember?" He reminds her, placing a soft kiss on her forehead.

She sniffles and covers her face with her trembling hands.

"I don't want to bring you into my misery, please, just get it," she mutters, trying to shake away his hands from her shoulders.

"I know, Blair. Thank you. But as much as you can't stand making me see you ill, I can't stand the thought of you here _alone_. And if you're trying to turn me out because you love me, consider the fact that it pains me more to stay away," he says softly. "Please," he adds.

Blair looks up at him and slowly, hesitantly tilts her head.

It's enough of an invitation.

"I love you," he whispers, covering her face - her cheeks, her nose, her cheekbones, and her chin - with kisses.

"We're in this together, okay?" he asks after a long moment.

"Okay," she agrees barely audibly, and finally breaks into the sobs she has been suppressing the whole time.

He wraps his arms around her tiny fragile frame and rocks her back and forth slowly while she cries.

She doesn't utter one single word, but he knows what these tears are for.

She's crying over her fear, helplessness, loneliness, misery.

And as her weeping starts to subside, he makes a promise.

It is a promise to her, and to himself, and to God too, probably.

"We'll fight it and we will win," he whispers into her ear.

* * *

So, that's it for today! Hope you liked their first real interaction) Leave a review, tell me what you think of the chapter!

I'm going away on Wednesday and I won't be back untill September the 1st, but I'll come back with lots of new material, promise! Have fun meanwhile)

xoxo :**


	6. Chapter 6

Hey there my beautiful readers!

I know it's been abnormally long since my last update, but I promise I haven't forgotten this story, it's just that there's been a lot going on in my life lately. But I'm back on track and with lots of new material now!

so, without further ado, enjoy!

* * *

When Chuck comes in her ward later that day, he doesn't find her flipping through the latest Vogue like he expects to. Instead, she is sitting on the edge of her bed, her eyes shut closed, breathing heavily.

It looks like she's about to faint.

"Blair, what's wrong? Shall I call the doctor?" He asks her quietly, his voice laced with concern.

She shakes her head, closing her eyes tighter.

"Do you want to lie down?" he suggests, desperate to make that agonized look leave her face.

She nods slowly, and he gently guides her into a lying position.

But as soon as her head reaches the pillow, she jerks back up, her face turning from gray to pale green. He has just enough time to grab a basin from her bedside table and hold it under her chin before she breaks into a retching coughing fit, throwing up noisily. He sits beside her, wrapping his arms around her shaking body, hoping to give her some sort of support. He knows it doesn't really help, but he has to at least try.

As she retches, he reaches out instinctively to hold her hair back, only to stop dead in his tracks a split second later. Instead, he places tender kisses on the top of her bare head.

Suddenly, Chuck Bass realizes it's the first time he sees his wife sick. Yes, she's had bulimia, but that disease has two sides, and knowing exactly how to deal with the psychological part, he let Serena take care of the physiological one.

Yes, she's gotten stomach flus, but she would always lock the bathroom, saying he didn't need to see it, and he never broke in.

Not that he didn't want to help her.

Of course, he did.

The thing is that he's learned the hard way that mental comfort is much more valued by Blair Waldorf than physical.

So he would just stand outside to make sure she was relatively okay.

But this time, it's different.

It's now that he begins to understand: this is the scariest thing they've ever faced.

_We are Chuck and Blair, Blair and Chuck_, he tries to remind himself, as panic hits him, but somehow it doesn't sound too convincing in his head.

Her stomach finally empty, Blair slumps back against Chuck, drained of all strength. He strokes her arm gently, his soothing touch bringing solace to her.

"Are you better?" he whispers into her ear when her breathing evens out completely.

"A bit," she replies. "Help me lie down?"

And so he does, then covers her with a soft blanket and sits back.

"Thank you," she mumbles. "I'm sorry you had to see this," she adds quietly.

"Please, _don't_, Blair, " he replies quickly, harshly. "That's what I'm here for - to help you through anything, and if you aren't feeling well, I'll be right beside you with whatever you need," he states firmly.

"Good," she nods slightly. "Because I feel like crap all the time now".

With that she closes her eyes, drifting to sleep almost instantly.

Her words ring in his head, and he hates it, hates what the illness has done to her, to his Blair. To the woman who used to be the most powerful in the world.

It's made her...weak.

* * *

"Hey, sleepyhead," he smiles at her as she opens her eyes a few hours later.

"How are you feeling?" he asks, trying to keep the worry out of his voice.

"I'm okay, Chuck," she says softly. "It was just a dizzy spell. It's gone now, I promise. Don't worry," she grabs his hand and squeezes it tightly, sensing his discomfort.

That's when he knows he was blind - she isn't weak.

No.

The way _she _comforts _him_ after he's had what she dismisses as 'just a dizzy spell' opens his eyes on who is sitting in front of him.

She's Blair Bass.

The strongest woman in the world.

"Thank you," he chokes out, overwhelmed by the realization.

She is _still _his Blair. Those beautiful doe eyes. This unbelievable mix of stubbornness and kindness. The girl he's fallen in love with all those years ago is right there.

She doesn't answer, doesn't ask _what _he's thankful for.

She knows it is for everything.

For fighting her fears and letting him stay.

For being strong and not showing away her pain.

_For being._

"I've talked to your doctor," he starts after a lengthy pause.

"Dr. Clark? Miss Overprotective of the year," scoffs Blair.

"Oh yes, I've noticed. She was trying to kill me for the first half of our conversation. Her favor cost me quite a few nerve cells," he chuckles.  
"Oh, were those just the nerve cells, or a new hospital wing too?" laughs Blair.  
"No, no, no... It was just the Bass charm," he denies immediately.  
"Sure it was… Spill it, _Bass_" she is giggling at his way too obvious poker-face while he is struggling to maintain it.

"Fine, I _might have _sworn on the Bible I wouldn't leave you… as if it was necessary!" he admits, looking away sheepishly.

"Wow, Dr. Clark really… cares about me," manages Blair through laughter.  
"Chuck Bass the almighty swearing on _the Bible _not to leave a girl…!"

"Anyway, she says you can go home for the break between the chemos," he says with a huge grin. "I'm not taking 'no' for an answer," he adds upon seeing hesitation in her eyes.

"But what about the IVs, and medications, and…?" she trails off, looking away.

"Well, she says you won't really be needing them in a couple of days. Plus, last time I checked we could afford inviting a nurse over," he laughs, but she doesn't.

"I don't know, Chuck…" she begins, but he cuts her off mid-sentence.

"Yes, you do, Blair. You just don't want to tell everyone," he states, a bit harshly, and instantly regrets it.

"And what if I don't, Chuck? Are you going to force me, or what? " she snaps at him.

"I don't think I could've forced you even if I wanted to. Which I don't," he says softly. "But they miss you - Nate, and Eleanor, and Cyrus, and Dorota, and Serena. And you miss them too, I know. Just think about it," he almost pleads.

"I do miss them," she admits. "But I can't let them see me like this. It's bad enough that you do," she says quietly, still staring out of the window.

He sighs heavily.

What else did he expect?

She is Blair, after all.

Protecting her family (because Serena and Nate _are _family, too) is what she does.

Whoever hurts one of them is bound to be destroyed, or rendered harmless at least.

No matter whom the person is.

And if Blair Cornelia Waldorf-Bass is causing her family pain, (or so she thinks)

then she must be put at a safe distance from them. Even if it destroys her in the process.

"Serena's been a mess, really. She just keeps talking about how hurt you must've been when she left for boarding school. And she's been drinking again," he tells her calmly. He knows the words hurt her, again, but he is desperate.

"Oh," she breathes. "But you and Nate, you helped her, didn't you?" she asks, and there is just the tiniest hint of fear in her voice.

"Me and poor Nathaniel? We tried, but you know we _can't_. It takes _Blair _to mend Serena," he puts emphasis on her name, hoping she would finally listen to him.

"As much as it takes _Blair _to destroy her," she replies, twisting the bed sheet in her fingers absent-mindedly.

The nervous movement doesn't go unnoticed by him.

He knows her too well.

So he places his hand on top of hers, squeezing it hard.

"Relax, Blair. It's not like you have to do it tomorrow. You can come home and no one has to know," he says softly. "When you feel better, we'll host a small family gathering, and I'll be right by your side, I promise." He leans in to kiss her on the cheek tenderly.

"We'll talk about it later, Chuck. I'm not feeling well enough for fighting," she says wearily, closing her eyes for a second.

There is no argument for him left, so he falls silent.

He feels helpless for a second, because Chuck Bass is used to winning all the controversies in no time.  
But this is different. This is _Blair. _

Today was a long day, he reminds himself.

He will talk some sense into her later, when she's ready.

Right now, he just concentrates on the feeling of her small hand between his.

She is here and it's now.

That's important.

The rest they will figure out.

It's _cancer _and it's scary.

But they are Chuck and Blair, Blair and Chuck.

They can overcome it.

They will.

* * *

So, that's it. Hope it was worth the wait. Please, please, please leave a review, I'm so worried nobody's going to read it now! So be kind and tell me what you thought!


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